NEIGHBORHOOD REPORT: TRIBECA -- BUZZ

By JESSE McKINLEY

Published: April 12, 1998

THE SCENE -- The first anniversary party for Icon magazine, a slick SoHo-based bimonthly geared to the cult of celebrity worship. On Wednesday night, a crowd flocked to the Ace Gallery, a cavernous space at 275 Hudson Street, to soak up free drinks and try to catch a glimpse of Evel Knievel, the daredevil motorcyclist who once tried to leap the Snake River Canyon in Idaho on a rocket-powered skycycle. (He almost made it.)

As impressive as Mr. Knievel's exploits once were, the hordes who showed up had their own challenge: getting in the door.

THE BUZZ -- Even as the crowd inside was screaming ''Evel for President,'' the event's organizers were imposing a strict door policy at the gate. Well, sort of strict.

''This guy in an Armani suit and a bad T-shirt came out and said: 'We have to close the doors. Nobody else!' '' said Jeff Sugg, a lighting designer and visual artist who was first in line when the announcement was made.

''Then press people would come up, and family members would come up, and a whole car full of models would come up, and they'd all get in. I was bitter.''

The preferential treatment made for bad blood among many behind the velvet rope, where about 200 people stood in the chilly wind. Ray Rogers, the music editor at Interview magazine, lasted barely a minute before heading uptown.

''It looks like they invited the entire world,'' Mr. Rogers said as he jumped into a taxi. ''When I first came to New York, there was something alluring about these kinds of parties: meeting new people, getting free food and free cocktails. Now, at least, I can afford to buy my own drinks. And I have enough friends.''

While insiders were packed shoulder to shoulder, many of them sipping blue-tinted coconut daiquiris, those in line turned to increasingly desperate tactics.

At one point, Mr. Sugg said, a transvestite guarding the door took a cigarette out of her purse. ''This guy comes up and takes my lighter and tries to give her a light,'' he said. ''I told him if he thought that was going to get him in, forget it.'' (The ploy, as predicted, didn't work.)

While Mr. Knievel slowly drove a motorcycle through a group of models clad in leather bikinis, some observers detected an ethos of performance art developing in the not-so-great outdoors.

''Everyone had that look in their eye like, 'I'm waiting in line, but I'm still cool,' '' said Michelle Stern, an actress and Off Off Broadway producer. ''Everyone had the attitude of 'I may be waiting, but I'm sure I'll get in.' ''

The strain was too much for some. One spurned partygoer, dressed in a beige trenchcoat, plowed through the crowd with a briefcase shouting expletives. ''Your party and your magazine are rot,'' he shouted as he stormed away. ''And I'm a contributor.'' JESSE McKINLEY

Photo: At the Icon magazine party, about 200 of the excluded stood outside. (Miles Ladin for The New York Times)